


Partners In Crime

by KoreFanFic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Amelie shows up eventually I swear!, Ashe and Mcree are friends ONLY, Background - Freeform, Best Friends, Bob is a good robot, Bullying, Child Neglect, Crime, F/F, Fighting, First Meetings, Flashbacks, Fluff, Gen, Headcanon, Kids fighting, Neglectful Parents, Ouihaw, Sad Elizabeth as a child, mini series, sad ashe, young ashe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoreFanFic/pseuds/KoreFanFic
Summary: A series of mini stories from Elizabeth Calendonia's life.How she met some of the most important (and infuriating) people in her life. And how she lost some of them.**Heads up, this has no intended ending as its just a collection of random ideas and head canons as i think of them I will maybe do an actual chaptered fic of Ouihaw once I can think of a full story line for them**
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Elizabeth Calendonia

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so like I'm not an expert so if any of this is wrong or doesnt match up with the canon don't yell at me! I just like writing stuff okay?
> 
> Also for fans of Howyd Cherie... You might be happy to know that someone's going to be popping up in the future ;) 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Caledonia Family have a new addition.

When Omnics were created they had a default factory name before they were given “real” names. Most Omnics had real names, were given them upon completion, to give them more “humanity”. But there were exceptions. Some Omnics were custom made, commissioned with specific requirements for a particular job or purpose and it was down to their “owner to name them.”

N.A.N.U, Nature And Nurture Unit’s, were designed with the sole purpose of looking after children. One such model had been requested by the Caledonia family upon discovering that Margery Caledonia was expecting. 

N.A.N.U had been delivered to the Caledonia residence just in time for Margery Caledonia to give birth, which had been useful as Margery had an extremely important business meeting that same afternoon and had no time to mind the small screaming child she had given birth to that morning in her drawing-room. 

Margery, ever the professional, had showered, taken some painkillers and went about her day, leaving the newly purchased N.A.N.U unit to care for the child. 

It took Margery an entire week before she actually spent any time with her own daughter, although not that it really could be considered with her. They were in the same room, Margery reading through a new business proposal while little Elizabeth slept in her Moses basket in the corner. 

The second the baby had made a sound though, Margery had summoned the N.A.N.U unit to come “deal with her,” while she got to her feet and left to go read in her study, where she wouldn’t be disturbed. 

Her husband, Jonathan Caledonia III, was just as absent, only really paying his daughter any attention when he had guests over, where he would cradle her in his arms, showing her off to his business partners and coo over her lovingly, before handing her back to N.A.N.U to carry on with his meeting. 

N.A.N.U unit cared for Elizabeth every hour of the day, feeding her, changing her, comforting her all while her “parents” went about their daily lives, barely even acknowledging they even had a child in the house. 

The problem with Mechs however was they were not just metal robots designed to carry out humans wishes. Omnic’s were much more than that. And the N.A.N.U Omnic grew fond of Elizabeth, felt pity for her whenever her parents would ignore her or wave of her cries for attention by throwing N.A.N.U at her.

Just before Elizabeth’s first birthday, N.A.N.U was in the kitchen, preparing the child’s lunch when Margery entered behind them, asking one of her kitchen Omnic’s to make her a cup of tea.

N.A.N.U stopped what they were, turning to face their employer. 

“Miss Caledonia?” N.A.N.U called out and Margery looked up from her tablet, her dark eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Yes? What is it?” Her southern voice filled the kitchen dryly.

“I was just wanting to remind you it is young Elizabeth’s birthday next week. What would you like me to arrange for her?” N.A.N.U asked, their metallic voice ringing out through the large kitchen. Margery scoffed, raised her eyebrows, took in a deep breath before she let it out in a sigh and her red eyes fell back to her tablet screen. 

“Oh. Is that all? I don’t know, get her a card or something,” She muttered as she waved her hand dismissively at her Omnic. 

“Do you not wish to get her a present? Perhaps a cake? I’m sure Elizabeth would love a party with some other children. She doesn’t get to interact with any-” The Omnic started but Margery waved her hand at them again. 

“Just a card. She doesn’t need anything else,” She mumbled. 

N.A.N.U twisted their metal hands nervously. 

“You don’t want to get your daughter something for her birthday?” The Omnic asked, their voice distinctly coated in disapproval. 

Margery’s head snapped up as the other Omnic’s in the kitchen all stopped dead, watching in silence as N.A.N.U stared their employer down, their glowing blue eyes flickering briefly. 

“Excuse me?” Margery raised her eyebrows at the Mech as she spoke, her tone thick with malice. 

That afternoon N.A.N.U was “let go” from the Caledonia household and as was the standard before Omnic rights were an established argument, the unit was disposed of in the family’s incinerator. 

One of the kitchen Omnic’s took over the care of Elizabeth, who cried for days for “Nanu”, while the family waited on their new order, made to very specific requests. 

B.O.B, Big Omnic Butler, was constructed with one special adjustment. They had no voice equipment installed, to prevent them from talking back to save the family the hassle of having to “fire” another Omnic. 

The aim was to have an Omnic that done as it was told, keeping Elizabeth out of their way and never questioning their actions surrounding her. 

That part remained true. B.O.B always did as he was told with no complaint and he had no problem keeping Elizabeth out of her parent's way. But when it came to who he sided with, it was always Elizabeth. Even as a small child, she always treated him as a person, as a friend instead of a “thing” like her parents did. 

And so started the unbreakable bond between the two. B.O.B remained by Elizabeth’s side through everything, every argument with her parents, every run-in with the law and eventually every single heist.  



	2. First Fist Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth gets into her first fight of many.

“Get away from me,” Elizabeth snapped bitterly at the two boys sniggering behind her.

“Oh, you think you can tell us what to do cause your Daddy’s a Caledonia?” One of the boys spat at her, throwing a rock that smacked off one of her shoulder blades, making her winch slightly. She kept walking, her hands shoved into her pockets as she tried to ignore them both, refusing to run away, instead, keeping her pace steady, but brisk as she headed around the outside of the school building, hoping to make it to the car before her patience ran short. 

Elizabeth bit her tongue as she stomped around the corner. A hand grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around and pinning her against the cold brick wall of the building, her head slamming against the concrete and making her teeth clatter together. 

“You think you are so damn special,” The other boy snarled in her face. “But you’re nothing. I’d be surprised if your parents even remembered your name.” 

“Get off me,” Elizabeth warned quietly, jutting her chin out aggressively. 

The boy spat in her face and Elizabeth turned her face away from him, as she felt the horribly warm slim slide down the side of her nose. She reached a hand up to wipe it away but the other boy grabbed her wrist, stopping her. 

A second later and pain shot through her arm as the boy twisted her hand backwards. She growled, refusing to cry out, refusing to give them the reaction they wanted. 

Another spike of pain ran up her shin as one of them, she didn’t register what one, kicked her in the leg. She pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth, holding in the yell that was building in her throat. 

She felt her wounded arm fall to her side as the boy let it go and she pulled it as far away from him as she could, hunching her shoulders up. A hand reached down and grabbed her short white hair and pulled her head backwards. 

“No one fucking wants you,” The boy snarled in her face. Elizabeth’s lip curled upwards. Rage rolled through her stomach, up her chest and into her shoulders, creeping down her arms. She pulled her one good arm back and threw it forward, pain rushing up her forearm as her fist connected with the boys face, knocking him backwards, his head colliding with the ground.

She forced herself to her feet, ignoring the way her leg screamed in protest and without hesitating swung for the other boy, connecting directly with his nose, and she couldn’t fight the satisfied grin that spread across her face when she felt it crack under her knuckles. 

“Elizabeth Caledonia!” A sharp, nasally voice chimed from behind her and she hung her head. Of course, the teachers would show up now. Not when she was the one needing help. Never when she needed help. She was sure that they did this on purpose. 

She didn’t say a word as she sat in the principal's office. She didn’t say a word when the parents of the two boys showed, screaming at yelling about how “awful” Elizabeth was. She didn’t bother to try to defend herself. She knew it was no use. 

She waited, quietly, as they waited on her parents showing up. Everyone in the room was stunned when the family Omnic shuffled into the room instead of her parents. Everyone but Elizabeth. She knew better. 

No one said a word as Bob reached across the length of the small room with one arm, wrapped it underneath Elizabeth and picked her up. He gave them all a cold, glowing green look before he ducked out the door without a word, Elizabeth quietly perched in the palm of his hand. 

It wasn’t until they were crossing the school grounds towards the waiting car that Elizabeth spoke. 

“Bob? My hand hurts,” She muttered weakly, finally letting the pain she had been repressing overwhelm her as tears rolled down her cheeks.

The butler looked down at her, using his free hand to gently lift her arm for him to look at it. He tilted his head to one side, his green eyes flicking from her swollen wrist her bleary red eyes, buzzing quietly. 

“It hurts,” She sniffed quietly. Bob nodded, quickening his pace until he reached the car. He climbed into the specially made vehicle, and gently slid the quietly sobbing child into the passenger seat. He always let her ride upfront when it was just the two of them. 

He drove to the hospital, where he silently demanded she be seen, the Omnic nurse seeming to understand his pointed stares and getting them rushed through. 

Elizabeth had sprained her wrist and after she’d had it bandaged up, to prevent her from doing more damage and was given some painkillers, Bob carried her back out to the car. 

They sat in silence, while Elizabeth scowled out the window for a good twenty minutes before she sighed and turned her head towards Bob.

“They said no one wants me,” She told him quietly as she cradled her injured arm to her chest. 

Silence. It was always silence from him and sometimes it was what Elizabeth liked about him. But this time she hated it. She hated her parents for having him made this way, unable to speak to her, unable to confirm or deny her insecurities. 

A large, metal hand wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her across the leather seat of the car, gently tucking her under Bob's arm. His arm tightened around her ever so slightly, enough to comfort her but not enough to hurt her arm. 

Elizabeth turned her head up, her watery red eyes blinking furiously, trying to stop herself from crying twice in one day but she couldn’t help it, and the hot tears rolled down her cheeks again, this time not from the pain but from the silent comfort from her only friend. 

She didn’t need those boys at her school to like her. She didn’t need the teachers to care about her. She didn’t need her parents to pay attention to her. 

She had Bob and that was all she needed. 


	3. From the Ashe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth is left in a holding cell and makes a new friend.

“Face front,” a sharp, demanding voice barked.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes but did as she was told, she wasn’t in the mood to be roughed up again. 

A single white flash went off and she blinked aggressively as black spots coated her vision for a moment. 

“Ah! Fuck!” She complained, reaching up to dig her fist into her eye, her other hand coming reluctantly along for the ride thanks to the handcuffs clinging to her wrists.

“Quit whining,” The cop grunted at her and Elizabeth debated giving him the finger. She decided against it, but only barely. 

A few minutes later and she was being pushed into a holding cell, to wait on someone, no doubt Bob, coming to bail her out. She had more chance of the sky falling than her parents coming to get her. 

Elizabeth leaned her elbows on her knees, scowling around the almost empty cell. The only other person there was a snoozing teenager in the corner, his head bowed against his chest, his hairy arms crossed over his chest as he snored lightly. 

She threw herself back against the wall of the cell and sighed loudly, blowing a strand of her white hair out of her face. 

It was unfair to have her locked up like this. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Not technically. That guy in the bar had been the one to start the fight. Sure she wasn’t supposed to even be in there, given she wasn’t old enough to drink yet, but that was beside the point. He shouldn’t have tried to grab her ass. And he shouldn’t have gotten mad when she told him to fuck off. 

If he had taken the rejection like a sensible person, instead of swinging for her, then maybe he wouldn’t have gotten himself a broken nose and possibly a few cracked ribs and Elizabeth sure as hell wouldn’t be in this damn hole. 

Elizabeth tapped the tips of her fingers off the long bench she was perched on, her nails clinking loudly around the cell. 

“Do ye mind? I’m tryin’ to sleep ‘er,” The boy from the corner growled hoarsely at her.

Elizabeth glared at the top of his brown shaggy hair. 

“So go to sleep. I’m awake and bored, I’ll do what I want,” She bit back, continuing to tap her nails, slightly louder now, off the bench. 

“I ain’t gonna ask you again,” The boy warned. Elizabeth looked him up and down. 

“Oh yeah? What ya gonna do? Make me?” She snarled, her thick southern accent adding an extra level of malice to her words. 

“Listen, kid-” The guy muttered.

“Kid? Fuck off, you look about the same age as me,” She snapped, interrupting him. 

“Look you clearly ain’t very bright,” He started again but Elizabeth growled deep in her throat.

“Say that again and I’ll break your fucking nose,” She warned him quietly, her voice deepening as she narrowed her eyes at him as he finally tilted his head up to look at her. 

Deep brown eyes scrutinized her carefully, clearly trying to figure out if she was able to back up her threat. His lip curled upwards in a smirk and Elizabeth rolled her red eyes at him. She recognised that smirk. Had seen it directed at her too many times. At this rate, she was never getting out of this cell if she was just going to have to keep breaking guys noses.

“Well, shit,” he started but she lifted both her hands with a sigh. 

“Look lemme stop ya there buddy. I ain’t interested,” She told him firmly, raising her thin eyebrows to try and get her hint across. 

He lifted his head, his mouth falling open slightly as he picked up the meaning of her words, a feat that Elizabeth was surprised by, seeing as most of the half-wits in this town seemed to not understand that not every woman was interested in men. 

“Barking up the wrong tree?” He smirked at her, his tone lighter as he looked her over again, something about it feeling less predatory and now more respectful. 

“Try wrong fuckin’ forest,” She joked and the sound of his deep laugh made one of the cops sitting nearby turn to glare at them both.

“Keep it down in there,” The cop yelled. 

Elizabeth gave in to temptation this time, lifting both her cuffed hands and flipping him off, bringing another chuckle from her cellmate. 

“You’ve got balls sweetheart,” The guy nodded at her as the cop waved them both off and left to go answer and ringing phone. 

“Thanks, I guess,” She half smirked at him. 

“So, what ya in for?” He cocked his head to the side, unfolding his arms and reaching into his jeans pocket to pull out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. 

“Hey! How’d you get to keep yours? They swiped mine!” She grumbled in a whisper.

“The moron didn’t frisk me,” He jerked his head towards the cop who had told them off earlier. 

Elizabeth grimaced, growling as she folded her arms across her chest. 

“Fuckin’ figures,” She muttered.

“Want one?” He offered, raising a bushy brown eyebrow at her. Elizabeth nodded, reaching out to catch the cigarette the boy threw at her. She caught it easily, and stuck it in between her teeth and extended her hand for him to throw her the lighter. 

After she lit it and took a long, comforting drag she lifted her hand to throw the lighter back but he shook his head, his own cigarette wobbling in his mouth. 

“Keep it,” he told her. She mumbled a thanks back before taking another drag from her smoke. “So, what got you shoved in here with an unsightly criminal such as ma’self,” He chuckled, exhaling a wisp of smoke in front of him. 

“Moron in a bar tried to cop a feel. I told him to fuck off and he swung at me. So I might have put him in his place,” She mumbled, not making eye contact as she kicked her foot out idly. 

“And his place being?” He pried.

“Threw a table with a broken nose,” She added, only looking up when the boy snorted gruffly. 

“Nice,” He added with a grin. 

“Thanks. What ‘bout you?” Elizabeth pointed her smoking cigarette at his face before putting it back to her lips. 

“Needed a place to crash. It’s raining out,” He nodded his head towards the thin window placed high above their heads, that was coated in large raindrops. 

“What? So ya just knocked on the door asked for a room at the inn?” She asked doubtfully.

“Of course not. I’m not stupid. I “accidentally” got caught stealing a bottle of whiskey,” he lifted his hands to make quotation marks beside his head. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him, her lips parting in puzzlement. 

“So you wanted to get caught?” She asked hesitantly, looking him up and down. 

“Yup. I’ll be let out in the morning and I can go back to being too smart for them to catch,” His lip ticked upwards around his cigarette. 

“Is that so? Sounds like a load of horse shit to me,” She narrowed her eyes at him, sitting back on her bench. 

The boy snorted and shook his head at her, reaching up to grab his cigarette and flick the ash away from the end. 

“Well I suppose it’s not as exciting as your story missy,” He chuckled.

“Don’t call me missy,” She snapped biting the flat of her tongue.

“What should I call you then?” He asked, stubbing out his cigarette on the sole of his boot. 

She opened her mouth to answer but stopped short. She hated her name and she sure as hell hated the people who gave her it. It burned her throat whenever she spoke it and it made her ears winch whenever she heard it, which was one of the benefits of having a mute Omnic as her only friend. 

Her crimson eyes flitted down the to burning cigarette in between her fingers as she absently flicked her thumb against the butt, watching the ash fall to the cell floor gently. She watched it fall as the tiny white flecks broke apart and scattered gently across the grey concrete. Her eyes narrowed on the tiny white pieces next to her shoe as a piece of her hair fell from behind her ear, thin white strands swinging around her face, the same colour as the ash at her feet. 

At that moment she made a decision. She was done being Elizabeth. She was tired of it. She wanted to be something else. She wanted to be someone else. 

“Oi? I asked you a question!” the boy waved a hand at her, trying to get her attention. 

“Call me Ashe,” she muttered shakily, immediately liking how the name felt on her tongue.

“Nice ta meet ya, Ashe. I’m Jesse. When we get out of here, we should have a drink sometime,” He told her with a friendly smile and Ashe nodded in agreement, bringing the last of her cigarette to her lips. She liked just about every part of that sentence.


	4. Jesse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe and Jesse make a getaway and Ashe gets a new toy.
> 
> Literally fluff on how she got her bike.

“Move it or lose it Mcree!” Ashe yelled over her shoulder, revving the engine of the sleek red bike on the street. The sounds of police sirens were blaring in the distance and Ashe didn’t really feel like getting arrested right now. If he didn’t hurry up she was leaving him here. 

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’!” He hollered back, stumbling out the swinging doors of the bar, pulling one of his brown cowboy boots on with one hand, clutching at his wide-rimmed hat with the other. Ashe rolled her eyes. She’d fucking murder him if she got caught because Jesse just had to sleep with the pretty barmaid. Again. 

“Hurry up! The law’s here!” She snapped, casting a quick look over her shoulder. Blue lights were reflecting off the windows of the building at the end of the street. She turned to growl at him again just as he threw himself on the back of the bike behind her with a grunt, jostling the bike with his weight. 

“What ya waitin for? An invitation? Get movin’” He smirked in her ear and Ashe lifted her boot to the bike before she changed her mind and threw him off the back. The bike roared as the two outlaws took off, just as the shrieking police car came skidding around the corner behind them. 

Ashe felt Jesse’s arms tighten around her waist she drifted around a corner, the end of the bike swinging wildly, almost hitting a lamppost before she righted the big red beast and shot forward. She silently hoped whoever she’d stolen this bike from had filled the tank before she’d relieved them of it, it would be a darn embarrassment to caught because they ran out of gas. Or whatever this thing ran on, she wasn’t sure. 

As the two made their way through the town, zipping down side streets and alleys, frantically trying to shake the screaming vehicle behind them, Ashe grinned to herself. This was what she lived for, the thrill of the chase. The feeling of getting away with whatever she wanted. They hadn’t caught her yet and she’d be damned if that was going to change today. 

It didn’t take her long to shake them off, a large truck providing them enough cover to get out of sight of the cop car long enough to hide in a dark alleyway further down the street. 

She reversed the bike as far back into the alley as it would go, relying on the shadows of the buildings on either side of them to conceal them as her red eyes narrowed, watching the mouth of the alley, her fingers curled around the ignition handle, ready to move at the drop of a hat. 

Neither of them spoke as the sirens wailed through the street around them, eventually fading away as the idiot cops went looking for them elsewhere. Ashe let out the breath she’d been holding in just as she heard the sound of a lighter flicking over her ear and the sharp inhale of Mcree behind her. 

“That was a close ‘un,” Jesse exhaled, blowing thick cigar smoke over Ashe’s shoulder. 

“Only cause you took your sweet time getting out that barmaid,” Ashe rolled her eyes at him. 

“You’re just jealous I got the girl this time,” Jesse cooed, leaning his forearm on her shoulder. 

“Ya only got her cause something else caught my eye,” She told him as she looked down at the glossy red motorcycle. 

“I can see that. It suits ya,” Jesse nodded, tilting his head to look at the bike they were sitting on. “Take it that’s why the Feds showed up?” He accused her playfully, rolling his cigar in his gloved fingers. 

“S’not my fault. Bike was too pretty to leave in his hands. I was doin’ a service,” Ashe drawled lightly, running her hand over the smooth body of the bike. It really was pretty. 

“Riiiight,” He dragged the word out as he leaned back casually. “Well, can’t say I’m mad. It saved me havin’ to explain why I was ducking out without buying her breakfast,” he chuckled lowly behind her and Ashe shook her head at him, sniggering at her friend. 

They sat in silence for a while, Ashe straining her ears for any signs the law was doubling back, while Mcree lounged back on the bike, smoking his cigar peacefully. After what felt like a decent amount of time, Ashe sighed, glanced over her shoulder at her partner in crime, her friend. 

“We should head back. Need to get ready for that train job tomorrow,” Ashe told him firmly. She caught the sight of him nodding behind her, his dirty, battered cowboy hat covering his face as he reached up to take his cigar from his teeth. 

“Aye, yer right. Think we’ve had enough fun for one day,” He smirked as he threw the cigar over his shoulder, leaving a faint wisp of smoke in its wake. 

“Oh, far from it my dear Jesse. I plan on getting positively shit faced when we get back,” She grinned wickedly at him as she revved to bike to life. 

“That’s just a regular day fer you though,” He pointed out as he tugged his hat down firmly over his head and wrapped his arm around her waist again. 

“Don’t mean it ain’t still fun,” She cocked her head to the side briefly as she lifted her boots and rolled the bike out of the alley. 


	5. An Easy Score?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse tries to talk Ashe into letting him do a score on his own but she's having none of it.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” Ashe snapped over the table, her long white hair falling over one shoulder, her leather waistcoat hanging open to reveal her white shirt. Her tie, which was normally around her neck was slung over the back her chair, along with her large black hat. 

“What else is new?” Mcree shrugged, his cigar wobbling between his teeth.

“I’m serious Mcree. You’ll get yourself caught. And I won't be there to drag your scrawny ass to safety,”

“Who you callin scrawny?” He frowned, pulling his cigar from his teeth as he propped an elbow on the booze stained bar table. 

“The scrawny cowboy with a damn imprisonment kink,” She bit back, her voice only just tinged with teasing. She was unhappy.

“Oh get off yer high horse. I can do it. It’ll be easy as pie,” he rolled his brown eyes at her, rolling his jaw at her, hearing it crack in his ear.

“Pie doesn’t have armed guards and round the clock surveillance cameras,” Ashe pointed out coldly.

“I can do it! I’m tellin ya it’ll be a quick score. In and out. No problems,” he waved his hands around him, his cigar trailing thin swirls of smoke around his bearded face.

“I’ll remember to put that on your slab when we bury your scrawny ass,” Ashe muttered, taking a drink from her glass.

“Quit callin’ me scrawny,” Mcree demanded, scowling at his partner.

“Quit being scrawny then,” Ashe raised an eyebrow at him from across the table, lifting her lit cigarette to her painted lips. “And ya ain’t doin’ it. Too risky,” Ashe told him firmly taking a drag from her cigarette. 

“But-” Mcree pleaded as he leaned over the table.

“No fuckin’ “but” about it. This ain’t up for debate. Now drop it Mcree,” She raised an eyebrow at him in warning as she exhaled the grey smoke from her lips. 

The two gang leaders glared icily at each other over the table, Mcree chewing on his cigar butt like he always did when he was pissed at something. Ashe took a drink from her glass and swirled the whiskey around her teeth before she swallowed it hard, letting out a long sigh before she closed her eyes tightly. 

When she opened them again, hard red eyes narrowed on warm brown ones and Mcree’s lip jerked upwards as he noticed the familiar signs he was about to get his own way. The way Ashe’s jaw twitched, her fingers clicking off the glass as she contemplated the proposed score. Slowly, her eyes softened, from strong-willed refusal to a frustrated surrender. 

“We can ... look into it,” Ashe finally conceded, running her tongue against her teeth when Mcree leaned back in his chair and grinned around his cigar at her. 

“’At’s ma girl!!” Mcree snapped his fingers ecstatically, puffing up his chest in triumph. 

“But-” Ashe pointed a black nailed finger at his face, her red lips pressing into a tight line. “You ain’t doin it alone,” Ashe told him firmly, her tone making it clear she wasn’t budging on this.

“Fair ‘nuff,” Mcree nodded, taking what he could get. This was set to be a decent score, would have them set for a while and if they could get one over on the Overwatch pricks? Even better.

“We can get Bars and the triplets in on it too. We’ll need help. This is a gonna take a lot of plannin’. No wingin’ it? Ya, hear me?” She warned, jutting her finger closer to his face and he nodded firmly, still grinning at her from across the table.

“Yes Ma’am,” He tipped his hat at her and she growled, leaning back in her own chair and taking her whiskey with her. 

Mcree was happy. He got what he wanted, as he normally did when it came to Ashe. Not that she wasn’t the same. Neither of them were very good at saying no to each other, making them a chaotic pairing. Chaos that Mcree thrived on. He enjoyed nothing more than getting into trouble with his best friend. 

The last two years had gone by so quickly and he never would have guessed that the grumpy little rich kid he’d met in that holding cell that night would have ended up being the best thing to ever happen to him. 

He loved her, in a way he wasn’t used to. Not romantically, but in a different way. More like family. Not that he hadn’t noticed her attractiveness when they’d first met, he’d have been a fool not to. But she’d made it clear from the get-go he was in the wrong lane. 

Which had made the last two years even more interesting for Jesse. 

He was used to having to compete with other men for women’s attention in bars across the country, a fight he normally won. But fighting another woman for it? That was a completely different type of ball game. Ashe had a natural skill for it. Something about her just attracted women to her. He chalked it up to her striking white hair and the fiery red eyes. However part of him knew it was more than that. She just had a way with people. 

And he wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d lost out to that way too many times to count. He couldn’t blame them really. Why have the rough, dirty-looking cowboy when you could have the fancy, elegant looking cowgirl? He understood it. He didn’t like it, it had left him high and dry more than was fair, but he got it.

The two partners leaned over the table, brainstorming a plan of action for the score, Mcree rattling off the information he had gathered already and he watched as he could see the wheels in Ashe’s head turning as she held her glass to her lips, on finger stretched out over her cupid's bow as her eyes narrowed in thought. 

Mcree was confident. They had this. They would pull this off without a problem, then they’d come back to their hideout, throw back some whiskey and laugh about how amazing they were and how stupid the Overwatch morons were for yet again failing to catch them. 

Or so he thought...


	6. The Night Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe gets too drunk the night before the big job and Jesse has to take her drunk ass back to her motel room.

“Whits that sspossed to mean?” Ashe slurred as Mcree slung her arm over his shoulder.

“It means: You’ve had ‘nough whiskey for tonight,” he explained with a chuckle, giving the woman a tug as she tried to pull back from him.

“’At’s ‘orse ssshit!” She bit back sloppily, her head rolling slightly, her boots dragging against the floorboards of the bar. 

“Don’t care. Get movin’” Mcree shook his head as he continued to carry her with him, kicking the door open with one foot and pulling them both outside. 

“A forgot ma whiskey!” Ashe cried out, trying again to head back into the bar, but Mcree was a lot more sober, and more in control so it was easy for him to stop her. 

“You didn’t. You finished it. Come on Calamity!” He grunted, using the pet name he’d tagged her with years ago. 

“Yer a pain in the ass Mcree,” Ashe told him, dragging a weak finger down his bearded cheek and he rolled his eyes as he shuffled them across the street to the motel the entire Deadlock gang was taking refuge in that night. They had that big score tomorrow and if they wanted any hope of it going smoothly, they needed their leader in a decent state. The odds weren’t looking good for them right now.

Mcree grunt and groaned as he half carried Ashe across the road, hoisting her up the steps and to her room. 

“Oi, key?” He demanded shortly, nudging her with his shoulder to get her attention.

“Huh?” Her head whipped around to face him, her long white hair falling into her face.

“Your room key? Where is it?” He asked again with an added eye-roll for good measure.

“Whit ya need em for?” Ashe raised an eyebrow at him as she tried to lean away from him, almost falling over before Mcree caught her and pulled her upright. 

“To get you ta bed, ya big drunk idiot,” Mcree told her flatly.

“Mcree how many times A gotta tell ya? I’m inta women,” She chuckled at him, slapping his arm lazily. “Back pocket,” She added with a snort, her red eyes rolling around loosely. 

He grumbled to himself as he reached into the back pocket of her pants, yanking the single motel room key out and sticking it into the lock of the door. 

“We should order room sservice!” Ashe half yelled as Mcree swung the door open, turning to drag her into the dark room.

“Aye, I’ll order you a strong coffee and some grub,” Mcree nodded, letting go of her now they were safely in the motel.

“Fuck that! I want whiskey!” Ashe threw her arms above her head.

“No dice sweetheart,” Mcree snorted, kicking the door closed behind him and flicking the rooms light on as Ashe stumbled forward. 

He watched from the door as she fell forward, landing face-first on the bed with a creak from the bedsprings. 

She mumbled something into the mattress and Mcree shook his head at her again for what felt like the hundredth time that night. 

“Try ‘at one again darlin’,” he called out to her. 

She lifted her head out of the mattress and glared at him from the bed. 

“I said; I could uv taken ‘im!” She snapped, licking her lips furiously. 

“Who?” He frowned at her.

“Doesn’t matter,” She grumbled before she dropped her head back into the mattress. 

“Right. Well, that’s a clear sign you need to go to sleep. Come on, get undressed,” he ordered from the door. 

He laughed when Ashe lifted a fingerless gloved hand and flipped him off. 

“I ain't gonna tell ya again. Come on. Move it,” He demanded firmly and the intoxicated cowgirl rolled over with a loud groan, letting her arms fall out on either side of her. 

“I don’t wanna!” 

“If you sleep in all those buckles, you’ll be achin’ in the mornin’,” He pointed out with a fond smile. She was a handful when she got this drunk.

She didn’t respond but growled deep in her throat as she reached up a flimsy hand to unfasten her waistcoat. Mcree took that as his cue to avert his eyes, choosing to stare at the back of the door. 

The sounds of her unclipping and unhooking various buckles and belts filled the room and Mcree didn’t look over until he heard the sound of her sliding under the duvet of the bed. At least she had done as she was told this time. Last time he’d had to undress her himself and that was difficult to do with your eyes closed.

“Ya good?” He asked quietly, looking over to see her throwing an arm over her eyes and sighing.

“Ye,” She mumbled shortly. 

“Right. I’ll be next door. If ya need me, bang on the wall, got it?”

“Got it,” She nodded against her forearm. 

Mcree turned to leave, but the second his fingers curled around the door handle she called out behind him.

“Jesse?” She drawled.

“Yeah?” He glanced over his shoulder slightly.

“Yer a good frien’,” She mumbled, her voice a lot softer than he was used to hearing.

“Am I now?” He asked her, a thin smirk spreading across his face. Well wasn’t this a rarity. Ashe being nice.

“Ye,” She nodded. She let out a heavy sigh and Mcree was sure he could smell the whiskey on her breath from the door. “I only ever had Bob before. It’s nice ‘avin’ a friend who can talk back,” She added earnestly. 

“You ‘ate it when I talk back,” He countered playfully, turning to fully face her now. 

“Well, ye’. I do. Yer a pain in the ass,” She agreed. “But I still luv ya,” she slurred, clicking her tongue off the roof of her mouth. 

“I luv ya too. Now get to sleep. We got that big score in the mornin’,” 

“Ye. That big ol’ bastard of a job,” She laughed to herself as Mcree shook his head at her and opened the door. 

“G’night Ashe.”

“G’night Jesse.”


	7. Cuffed and Collared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse is made an offer he can't refuse.

“Jesse Mcree.”

“’At’s ma name, don’t wear it out,” Mcree smirked up at the scowling officer in front of him, the small interview room around him making his words echo off the walls. 

“I’m Agent Reyes. Can I get you anything? A coffee? A smoke?” The officer asked politely despite his scowl and Mcree raised a curious eyebrow at him. The bastard was about to make him an offer. Well, it wouldn’t work. Nothing would make him turn on his boys. Or Ashe. But he wasn’t about to tell this idiot that. So he asked for a whiskey and a cigar. The Fed left and quickly came back with a glass of amber liquid and a pack of cigars. 

Mcree lifted cuffed hands up to grab them both, the chain that kept him locked to the spot rattling loudly. 

He clamped his teeth around the cigar as the man in front of him leaned a dark arm over the table, a lighter in his hand already lit for him. 

Mcree sat back in the cold metal chair and nodded his head at the officer, the movement feeling strange without his hat on. They better give him it back. He’d stolen that hat the first time he’d gotten drunk with Ashe. It was his favourite.

“Look, partner, Imma stop you right here,” Mcree said gruffly around his cigar, reaching a cuffed hand to take the glass of whiskey. He sniffed it suspiciously before he took a small sip. As he swirled it around his mouth he nodded in appreciation. This was the good stuff. Nice to know they didn’t skimp out when trying to make their prisoners comfortable. He let the booze roll down his throat before he added, “I ain’t gonna tell ya nothin’. Those folks out there are my family,” He nodded towards the door behind the man sitting across from him. 

“I wouldn’t worry about that. I don’t need you to talk. We have you all bang to rights. Caught red-handed stealing from Overwatch. You are all going to be put away for a very long time. That’s not why you are here,” The man told him smugly, leaning his forearms on the metal table. Mcree eyed him curiously, his bushy eyebrows snapping together as his glass hovered an inch from his lips. 

“What am I ‘er for then?” He challenged, his heart picking up its pace in his chest.

“Listen, kid. You’re good. And I don’t just mean with a gun. You’re a good person,” He told him earnestly. Mcree scoffed into his whiskey.

“You hit yer head on the way in here?” Mcree chuckled at him lightly as he shook his head at him, as he lifted the cigar to his mouth. 

“No. We’ve had an eye on you for a while now. You might be an outlaw Jesse but you have a line. You go out of your way to make sure no one gets hurt,” The man told him softly. He looked Mcree up and down, his finely trimmed facial hair shifting as he smirked at the criminal chained up across from him. 

“Is that so? So am I just gonna get a slap on the wrist and sent home then?” Mcree raised an eyebrow at him, taking a drag from his cigar. 

“Better,” The man said shortly. 

“Better? I doubt it,” Mcree scoffed.

“You’re going to be offered a job,” He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

“Fuckin’ come again?” Mcree spat, his mouth falling open slightly. 

“I’m going to level with you. You and your buddies are in some serious shit right now. They have enough on you lot to put you all away for a very long time. The Governor is calling for the chair. He sees it as a way to deter the other gangs here. He’s wanting to make an example of you all,” Reyes explained flatly like he was reciting the phone book.

Mcree chewed on the end of his cigar at Reyes’s words. He wasn’t aware of that part. That wasn’t good. His stomach rolled at the thought of being strapped into a chair. The imagine of Ashe being strapped up next to him made bile rise in his throat and he has to wash it down with a big gulp of whiskey.

Reyes continued, either not noticing or not caring about the cowboy's discomfort.

“But we made him a proposal. If you accept the job offer, he’ll agree to lower the charges. Your “family” will spend life in prison, but they’ll be alive. And that’s the important part.”

“If I join Overwatch, you’ll make sure they don’t get the chair?” Mcree pried, his eyes narrowed on Reyes. 

“Well... It wouldn’t technically be Overwatch. But yes. If you agree to join our little “division” then they’ll be spared that unsightly fate. They’ll even be allowed visitors,” he tilted his head towards Mcree with a smirk. 

Mcree rolled his cigar along his teeth with his tongue. He had two options. Refuse and they all die. Or accept and Ashe and boys get to stay breathing. Which was better than getting fried. 

“What’s the catch?” Mcree bit, eyeing the man over the rim of his glass. 

“You will belong to us. You’ll do as you’re told when you’re told. It won't be pretty. The nasty jobs that official Overwatch members can’t be seen doing. For public image reasons,” Reyes narrowed his eyes at Mcree. “It’ll be off the books, no records. No paperwork.”

“Don’t sound very legal to me,” Mcree pointed out.

“Some of it’s not. But it's for good reason,” Reyes countered. 

“That reason being?” Mcree asked pointedly.

“To keep people safe,” Reyes said shortly, his dark eyes scrutinizing Mcree’s every move.

Mcree looked down into his glass, watching the rich amber liquid swirl around the bottom as he rolled his wrist, his cigar burning away in between his teeth. He reached up to pull the cigar from his teeth and threw the last of the whiskey back his throat before he slammed the empty glass down on the metal table.

Ashe was going to murder him but at least she would be safe.


	8. Dead Man Walkin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe makes Jesse a promise.

Ashe sighed heavily in her cell, her cuffed hands against her lower her back as she stared up at the concrete ceiling. This was bad. She still had no idea how they’d gotten cornered. And by damned Overwatch agents no less. She knew this job was a bad idea but she just had to go and let Jesse get his own way. 

Hopefully, word had gotten back to Bob and the rest that they were locked up and they’d be trying to figure out a way to get them out of this shit hole soon. She hoped. 

The sound of a key rattling in a lock made Ashe’s head snap over, just as a guard pulled the cell door open with a loud clang. 

“Alright, get up. You’re next,” He barked coldly at her. Her red lip curled at him and she turned her head back to the ceiling. 

“Fuckin’ make me asshole,” She bit back. 

The guard sighed and walked into the cell, grabbing her by the arm firmly and dragging her to her feet.

“Come on missy, I ain’t got all day,” He grumbled. Ashe snarled at him but reluctantly shuffled out the cell. She let him guide her down a narrow hallway, running her tongue along her teeth in annoyance. This was pointless. They could interrogate her till their gums bled, she wasn’t telling them a damn thing.

The guard shoved at her shoulder, trying to hurry her up and she spitefully slowed her pace and smirked to herself when he sighed. 

“You know I hope you’re going to be as co-operative as your buddy was,” The guard grumbled behind her. 

“Nice try. I ain’t tellin ya squat, And neither is Jesse. He would never,” Ashe spat over her shoulder at him. The smug grin he gave her in response pissed her off. Fucking pig. 

The guard stopped to unlock a door beside them, pulling Ashe to a halt next to him. She glanced up the hallway and a few feet away saw a dark-skinned man leaving one of the interview rooms, followed closely by Jesse, his hands cuffed in front of him. 

Ashe opened her mouth to call out to him but stopped short when the man pulled a key from his pocket and reached down to uncuff Jesse’s wrists. She watched, her mouth hanging open as Jesse rubbed at his wrists, winching slightly. 

The officer in front of him, who’s shoulder was slapped with a big bright Overwatch crest, extended his hand out to him. And Jesse shook it. Nodding firmly at the man. 

Rage boiled in Ashe’s chest masking the sound of her heart-shattering in her chest, firing up her throat and filling her mouth with acid. She took a step forward, felt the guard behind her try to stop her. She turned, pulled her head back and smashed it into his nose hard and sent him reeling into the wall behind him.

The Overwatch agent shouted something at her but she couldn’t hear him as she rounded on Jesse, storming down the hallway, her red eyes narrowed murderously at him. The Overwatch agent, slipped in between them, restraining her easily as she snarled and writhed against him, she wasn’t even aware she was yelling until the words were echoing around the corridor. 

“You son of a bitch Mcree! You fucking sold us out! You god damn bastard!” Her throat cracked and ached as she tried to hurl her weight over the man’s arm but it was no use, he was stronger than her. Her white hair was flying out around her face as she continued to scream and snarl at her friend. Former friend.

“Ashe I can explain-” Jesse lifted his hands up in front of his face but she wasn’t listening.

“We were family you fuckin’ dirty sleaze bag! You better fuckin’ pray I never get my hands on you! I’ll fuckin’ rip you to shreds you no good double crossin’ piece of shit!” 

“Ashe, I’m sorry but please-”

The man holding her pushed her backwards, dragging her away from the pleading man she was spitting nails at. 

“Yer a dead man walking Mcree! Ya, hear me? Fuckin’ dead!” She hissed over the agent's shoulder as he bundled her into the interview room without a word. He threw her into the room, her back slamming against the metal table as he quickly backed out and slammed the door closed, the sound of it locking echoing around the room. 

Ashe rammed her shoulder into the door, still cursing and screaming obscenities at Mcree through the door. She took a step back, throwing her shoulder against the door again, pain burning down her arm and across her back as she felt her shoulder dislocate. She roared in agony, kicking the door furiously before she leaned her back against the door and slid to the floor.

Her shoulder burned but it paled in comparison to the pain in her chest. He’d betrayed them. He’d betrayed her. 

She should have known better than to trust anyone. She wasn’t going to make that mistake again. 


	9. Un-armed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe bumps into an old "friend" during a train job.

Ashe’s red eyes scanned the wreckage of the train. Bits of metal and plastic lay in disarray around her feet. She shifted her rifle in her hands as she took a step forward. 

“Yo boss? We’re almost ready ta go!” P.T called out from behind her. Ashe nodded over her armoured shoulder at him and turned her attention back to the mess in front of her. It felt good to be back in business. Her trigger finger had been itching to get back to work after her stint in prison, no matter how short it had been.

She owed Bob and the rest of the Deadlock gang a hefty round of drinks for breaking her, Bars and the triplets out of prison four months ago. She owed them a second-round after Bob had gone and made her some armour for her busted shoulder. 

It was technically her own fault it was so bad. She’s stubbornly refused medical help from the Feds, instead, forcing it back into the socket herself by smashing it against the wall of her interview room as the appalled medic had looked on in shock. But was she hell accepting any help from those bastards. It still ached ever now and then, would seize up occasionally when it got too cold, but that was rare. Arizona wasn’t a place to get chilly. 

But the armour helped, stopped the buckshot from her rifle causing any more damage. And she had to admit she liked the look of it. It was a nice addition to her new look. Went well with the new hair that she’d chopped off in a drunken rage after finding a picture of her and Jesse in the hideout one night. 

She’d kept the picture on her bike. Not for fond memories. But to remind her not to trust dirty cowboys. 

“Howdy there ol friend,” came the sound of the dirty cowboy, as if summoned by her thoughts. 

Her lip curled on instinct as she lifted her red eyes to see her old friend and partner in crime leaning casually against an overturned carriage of the train wreck.

“I ain’t yer friend,” Ashe spat, lifting her rifle to aim it at his smug, bearded face. 

He rolled his cigar between his fingers before he tucked it under his lip as he smiled around it at her. 

“I’m just ‘ere to talk,” He raised his hands at her in a sign of peace but she didn’t lower her gun as he took a bold step forward.

“Take one more step and I’ll blow that cigar down yer filthy throat,” She growled just as the sound of Bob storming loudly up behind her filled her ears. She could practically hear the mute Omnic narrowing his green eyes at Mcree.

“I’m not ‘ere to fight ya, Ashe,” He reasoned, jerking his head to the side. Ashe’s eyes followed the gesture, to see his gun holster slung over a broken train seat. He was unarmed. Not that it mattered. She’d shot unarmed men before, she would do it again happily. 

“I don’t care why yer here. Fuck off,” She jerked her own head this time, fighting back the acid in her throat. 

He took a step forward and Ashe’s finger twitched over the trigger, but something stopped her from following through and it made her gut burn and her lip curl further. 

“Please,” Mcree pleaded. Ashe scoffed in response, lowering her rifle to her side and rolling her eyes at him. 

“I ain’t here for yer bullshit. I’m leaving. You’d be wise to let me do so in peace,” She warned him, not waiting on a reply as she turned her back on him. Just as she stepped past Bob, she felt a hand on her arm, tugging her back and she snapped her head around to glare at the black glove around her elbow. 

Bob took a step forward, placing himself in-between the two of them silently, his large metal hand wrapping around Mcree’s in a warning.

“If you wanna keep that arm, I suggest ya let go of me Mcree,” Ashe growled lowly, her teeth biting down on the flat of her tongue. 

“I ain’t letting go until you listen to me,” Mcree protested. 

Red eyes met glowing green ones and a silent order passed between the cowgirl and her Big Omnic Bodyguard. 


End file.
